


Provocation, Conclusion

by Indybaggins



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Character Study, Friendship/Love, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-31
Updated: 2006-08-31
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:44:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is provocation gone too far?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provocation, Conclusion

 

 

Provocation (Wayne)

 

He could make Drew blush. 

At first, that realisation had been like a rush to the head. Drew Carey, such a famous comedian, his boss even, and it took only one joke, one touch, to have him bow his head in embarrassment, spots of redness creeping over his cheeks. 

After a while, it had become a matter of principle, a way of showing himself off to Drew, a way of getting noticed and approved, maybe a way of gaining the man’s friendship too, something that he so oddly started longing for. 

Finally, it had been all-out flirting. Season by season he changed his clothes to fit tighter, his dancing to be more sexual, his proximity from a couple feet away onto plain humping Drew’s desk, chasing Drew around the room, getting physical as much as he possibly could. And it was fun, too easy almost, too straightforward when he went for yet another joke, another touch.

And he knew it was terribly inappropriate, sure. It was nothing short of scandalous behaviour, but then again, who cared? 

Colin and Ryan touched and longed and kissed and practically had foreplay on the stage, and everybody loved it. Greg brought a sexually charged tension into their group, Chip enthusiasm, Jeff something darker and more dangerous. And it was all right, because it was the stage, nothing was real, nothing actually mattered there; that was something every one of them had long ago learned. 

Of course, somewhere deep down he had known that Drew never had the heart of an improviser. Drew had never memorised that particular rule, or maybe he did but ignored it, because when they were together off-stage, leaning more towards friendship now, there were still the occasional blushes, some fumbling touches under tables, an almost-kiss under the mistletoe. The stage was bleeding into their real life, and he knew he should deny it at all cost, be afraid of it, but somehow he wasn’t. 

Colin came to talk to him once. He said that Drew could be hurt. That he was different. That he shouldn’t play with what he didn’t want. He had laughed it off, asking Colin if he was speaking from experience. 

The next summer he went out of his way to kiss Drew for real, for the first time, on stage. It was short, soft, and oddly sensual. Drew seemed just a bit touched, and that same bit lodged into his stomach and made him want to do it again. 

When he kissed him for a second time, that evening in the parking lot, it was a lot sloppier, an odd mixture between hard passion and a gentle care. He wouldn’t let himself say anything, and Drew didn’t either, and so when he ended up on the backseat of Drew’s porsche with the man’s dick between his lips, it was provocation gone too far, nothing more. 

Drew came with a soft cry, and actually _thanked_ him, afterwards. Instead of making him feel something superior, something strong, he felt ripped apart, and he almost cried when he came in Drew’s hand a couple minutes later. 

 

 

Conclusion (Drew) 

 

He’d slept with many women. Strippers, prostitutes, blondes, brunettes, a never-ending stream of people who just seemed to flock around him because he was rich. He wasn’t stupid, so he’d just sleep with them once, maybe more if they were any good, and leave it at that. He’d had a couple men too, rentboys, his assistant once. They were just a curiosity, nothing more. 

He _was_ more than that; everybody who really knew him knew that he had a gentle side, soft, not even hidden very deep below. It was just that, at forty-two, he didn’t feel inclined to find love anymore. He had money, success, some real friends and family. He had nothing left to long for. 

Wayne… had been _cute_ at first. He was sexy and talented, and generous with both those gifts. He’d go a long way, and he seemed to know that. He’d talk confidently, interestingly, and Drew liked him well enough, but back-stage he’d prefer the friendship of the people he knew, the gentle care of Colin, the grumpy reliability of Ryan. 

Wayne however, seemed determined to really get to know them all, to be in the loop. Maybe that was the main reason he had brought it so far already, Drew thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel resentment towards the man for it. He just was young after all, just trying to get somewhere. So he’d invite him along for drinks. And Wayne, as all good actors, was observant. Saw how he got uncomfortable sometimes, when their eyes met across the table. Stored that information to be used on the show. And he’d embarrass him yeah, but he’d make him laugh until the tears were in his eyes too, and soon he started counting Wayne among his friends. 

It took another year or two for him for friendship to melt into outright _lust_. He’d start fantasising about Wayne every once in a while. Started jerking off to what he imagined to be his touch. And he was sure Wayne picked up on that. He _knew_ it wasn’t his imagination that Wayne was getting closer and closer, daring him for a kiss on multiple occasions, and when Wayne actually pushed him to the floor and rode on his back for some skit, he had to walk back to his desk bent over to hide his hard-on. 

One Christmas eve that year, he had stumblingly tried to make his want show, with a long-held hug, some touches, a mistletoe… but actual seduction was something that he learned long ago he failed at miserably. After that evening, he buried the whole idea once and for all. What, other than a laugh, did Wayne really want with him anyway? 

So when Wayne kissed him, so unexpectedly in scenes from a hat, he felt his entire world shift sideways just a bit. He had known that that kiss was nothing more than Wayne being nice, gracious. He had even realised there was little more he could hope for. But still, he had been _touched_ by it. 

And that evening, he didn’t remember if he wanted to apologise (for what?) or just suggest going out for a beer, but before he knew it his lips locked with Wayne’s again, in the parking lot for gods sakes, where anyone could see them, but as he felt Wayne’s enthusiasm he realised he didn’t care if they did. And it was hot, utterly hot to have Wayne press his hard-on against his thigh, to see his dark head bob between his legs when he sucked him off in the car. 

And together with his orgasm came a rush of gratitude towards Wayne, an admiration of the kindness, softness of the man, and he thanked him. 

Wayne gave him a conflicted look in response but seemed too aroused to care, so Drew took him in his hand, fascinatedly trailing the contour of his dick, the surprising softness of the little hairs surrounding it, and finished him off. He could see some unshed tears in his eyes, and wondered what exactly they had both just really put on the line there. 

Afterwards, they sat in silence for a moment, Drew’s hands lingering near Wayne’s thigh. He didn’t want it to be over, but, strangely, was almost relieved that it was. When Wayne zipped his pants back up and tucked his shirt in with tense, hurried movements, he wanted to say something, but then didn’t, their eyes meeting in a brief, resigned moment, before Wayne closed the car door and walked away. 

Maybe they’d both gotten more than they bargained for.

 

 

 

 


End file.
